We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Rick Secen a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Rick, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Earning a full time living from one’s creative career can be incredibly difficult. Have you been able to do so and if so, can you share some of the key parts of your journey and any important advice or lessons that might help creatives who haven’t been able to yet?

My journey to making a full time living from painting was a long process and it’s difficult to pinpoint where it began.

I grew up in a middle class neighborhood in Pittsburgh and was surrounded by people who worked hard day in and out. I received a good education and while no one around me was interested in art, my family and friends always supported my impulses. They gave me the opportunity to explore and encouraged my first artwork.

Now I’m incredibly fortunate to have a partner who gives me the space to pursue art full time. She does this with more than just words, but by providing a regular income which includes health care. I don’t know how I could do it without her or the fundamentals of my upbringing.

With that said, this is how I came to make a living from painting, and I can’t say it’s all that romantic!

I worked typical corporate jobs as an IT person for about 15 years and in that time I saved a good amount of money which gave me a descent enough safety net before doing anything drastic. I grew this safety net by always living below my means, which, when the time came, gave me the financial space to take risks. My time in the corporate world gave me an understanding of professionalism, which has served me in all facets of my painting career.

During those corporate years I had become more serious about becoming an oil painter, but I didn’t see a clear path to making it a reality. I wanted that different life for at least five years before I really made the first big move.

I was always ready to try and fail and look foolish.

A number of times I tried, and failed, to sell my original paintings, as well as hand made magnet prints and coasters on the sidewalk in Central Park. Usually my stand would blow over in the wind and I’d embarrassingly pick up my damaged items and go home.

Then in 2018 I rented a gallery in the Lower East Side Manhattan to show my work at the insistence of my now wife. I had an amazing turn out from supportive friends, family, and co-workers. It really lit a fire under me, but I still didn’t see what my next steps could possibly be to find real success. I just kept working and sharpening my ability to create.

After getting married in 2019, my wife and I declined the big wedding and used the wedding budget to travel. We had been expecting to be gone for more than a year, but we were forced home by the pandemic, and found ourselves without jobs or a home. We travelled around the East Coast staying with family, plotting our return to Brooklyn.

I told myself in those strange months that if we did make it back to Brooklyn, I would do two things… buy a scooter to get my self around in a pandemic, and rent my first art studio. I had such a potent vision of what my life would be, that when the opportunity came, I went all in, spending six or seven days a week at the studio for hours working and working because I knew that while this was a disastrous time for the country and for the world, it was going to be my only opportunity to become a full time artist.

I declined to return to the typical career and made ends meet instead with my scooter as an Uber Eats delivery person. I didn’t care what people thought of that. For a year I delivered all over Downtown Brooklyn, scooting around to all the fanciest high rise buildings and brownstones, as well as housing projects. I could make my own schedule and I was getting a first hand look at the community around me, which I would eventually paint. When my body began to suffer from the rough roads and the occasional scooter crash, I took a retail job. Every shift was torturous. I wanted to be in the studio, but I had not choice but to be patient.

While I wasn’t selling many paintings, I was always experimenting with new ideas and inventions, and trying new paths. Most of them went nowhere. I tried a t-shirt business. I tried building complex wooden frames. I invented a new paint brush cleaning tool.

When the world slowly began to reopen, I found a local Brooklyn arts organization called Arts Gowanus. They gave me my first taste of selling work directly to customers who weren’t already in my network. They had their yearly community Open Studios where I made my first sales and learned to hone my message.

Then, in early 2022, I was given my first gallery exhibition which I titled “Guiding Lights”. It was a humble show. It was only two weeks long. It was one of the worst gallery months, January. And it happened to occur as the Covid Omicron wave went world-wide. I knew I had no room for error on this opportunity, and so while most artists would have just dropped off their art and let the gallery do all the work, I was there, on site, literally every day. It was freezing and I drank almost exclusively hot chocolate. But I kept the doors open and invited customers in and by the end had made about $6000 in sales. I finally had a real taste for success.

Since then I’ve been relentlessly working, knowing full well that what success I have now is not guaranteed for the future.

This year, 2023, I’ve done seven art fairs in New York and DC and have out paced my salary from my last IT job. While art fairs bring me income, it’s the follow ups from those connections which have stabilized my income throughout the year.

The fairs cost a lot of money, but taking calculated risks is a requirement to achieving the goal of making a living as a full time artist. I take the risk, but I also know that I will put in the work to make it worthwhile. I don’t take days off, or even hours off during these fairs. Some days I’m on my feet for up to 9 hours straight, talking to people, sharing my art, and connecting.
I begin those days with tired legs and a lost voice, but I don’t care. I love it getting back to my booth the next day to start again.

I’m truly thankful I’ve been given the opportunity to do this. I’ve worked tirelessly, but I certainly didn’t do it on my own.

There are a lot of click bait articles out there that suggest that quitting your job and following a dream isn’t as hard as it seems. That’s difficult for me to believe. It’s a different journey for everyone, but I do believe there must be a few common threads. I credit preparation, hard work, a willingness to fail, and opportunity as essential elements to earning a full-time living from your creative work.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

My name is Rick Secen. I’m an oil painter based in Brooklyn.

When I began taking painting seriously, I first confronted myself with a few questions. To share a painting is, in essence, an act of speaking. What did I want to say? Why did I want to say it? and How will I avoid simply adding to an already existing cacophony of noise in the world?

This was 2016 and I was deeply effected by the deterioration of the country. I recognized my own heightened anger and I noticed that I was quick to judge people in my own community and even my own family. I wanted to be a force for healing for myself and others.

I began painting people that I saw in my daily life as a way to say that I do in fact care about them. I thought that if anyone saw my paintings, maybe they would care about them too. That if we all recognize that life is hard, and that we all wake up each day to our own challenges and expectations, then perhaps we could all go a little easier on each other. Maybe we’d have a better shot at addressing our common challenges.

My paintings are often figurative scenes portraying people in a moment of solitude. They are often having a direct interaction with light.  Light and atmosphere dominate the canvas.   There is often a sense of longing met with the radiance of light. These are moments of empathy.

I’m most proud when I get to share these paintings from my studio in Brooklyn and at art fairs. During art fairs I stand at a distance and watch people wander into the booth, often with a smile on their face. I’ve had reactions of all types. Some are even emotional. When I first began painting, I thought how wonderful it would be if even a few people saw the works. The fairs allow me to share with thousands of people at a time. It’s been a remarkable experience.

Now I invite visitors to my studio in Brooklyn, or to art fairs, as my primary ways to connect to customers.

Any insights you can share with us about how you built up your social media presence?

I’ve always been slow to social media. I make oil paintings, which are large and have texture and even a scent to them. Instagram just doesn’t capture them truly.

I do however recognize that Instagram is a primary way for my followers to hear about events and art fairs which I participate in. So, I promote it during the fairs.

Here’s the catch. I won’t promote or advertise on Instagram, or attempt in anyway to gain followers digitally. I spend time at art fairs and going to art events, meeting people, connecting with them face to face, and when they follow me, they rarely unfollow.

Because not all followers are equal.

I would rather 10 new followers who I met in person than a hundred that happened upon my page because of a hashtag. Over time I’ll build up a true following.

Alright – so here’s a fun one. What do you think about NFTs?

As an artist I feel no threat, nor have any interest in NFTs.

Art is precious. Anything that can be created in a microsecond will never be viewed as precious, and will therefore eventually lose its value.

There is a difference between cost and value. Something may cost a lot, but value is always changing.

My real concern is for a laziness in the creative sphere. Why don’t we see the obvious, that get rich quick ideas will always disappoint?

But who knows… maybe this will be one of those moments that people in a hundred years will laugh at me and say, “He was so wrong!”

Contact Info:

• Website: www.ricksecen.com
• Instagram: @ricksecen_studio